


The Right Second

by miriad



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-05
Updated: 2004-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriad/pseuds/miriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The intensity of almost losing someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Second

He starts slow and steady instead of his usual breakneck speed right out of the gate. There is something exceptionally intense about the moment, something that he isn’t sure he has ever felt before and that calls for something different, something with more care involved. Not that he didn’t care before- far from it. They just hadn’t taken things quite so seriously.

Maybe because they hadn’t been quite so serious.

Chris lingers on the kiss, focuses on Joey’s lips, only darting out with a hint of tongue now and then, just to keep him guessing. He kneads Joey’s shoulders, trying to work out the tension- the fear- that's settled in, working out his own tension through his fingers.

If he closes his eyes, Chris sees the car, on its side, tire spinning lazily around, sees the flashing lights, the ambulance, feels the tightness creep into his chest. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear the sirens, can smell the burnt rubber. It's all there if he closes his eyes.

So he doesn't. He keeps them open and looks at Joey. Watches him breathe, swallow, listens as he signs and moans. He keeps his eyes open so that he sees what he has and not what could have been, what almost was.

Chris runs a soft hand down Joey’s face, fingers ghosting over his eyelids, over his lips. Joey shivers, head tilting back into the pillow, as Chris replaces his fingers with lips, kissing down Joey’s cheeks, along the rough bearded edge of his jaw and under his chin.

“I’m not glass,“ Joey mutters, his voice rusty, creaking out of his mouth.

“I never said you were,“ Chris answers, mouthing across Joey’s neck. He pauses as he reaches the edge of Joey’s t-shirt, tongue snaking out to lick where fabric meets skin. His hands slide under the well-worn fabric and begin pulling it up and over Joey’s head with one hand as the other slides gently over Joey’s ribs, skin catching on the gauze wrap.

A warm hand flicks over a nipple, just for a moment and Joey shudders, groaning softly, stiffness and pleasure hitting at the same time. Chris steers away from the long bruise across Joey's torso, the line from the seat belt that in the end saved his life. It cracked a few ribs, made a hell of a mark but saved his life.

“Chris, seriously, you gotta-“

“Shh, you’re okay, man. Just let me, yeah.”

They lock eyes for a moment, the serious nature of the whole thing, the whole day, cross their faces without either one saying a word. For a moment, just stillness. Then Chris moves towards Joey, who leans in to meet him and they find each other in the middle, foreheads touching. Joey closes his eyes and sighs. Chris runs a hand down his back and nudges Joey with his knee.

“She’s okay, man. She’s fine.”

“I know. I know she is.”

“You're fine too. You're gonna be fine. Let me take care of you, okay? Just, I can, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Good.”

And Chris dives in, still gentle but with a harder edge, a touch of desperation that he hadn’t let slip before. It comes from almost saying the words, from almost saying that it had almost been over. A second earlier, a second later, they would be gone. Joe and Bri, gone forever. It touches off a need in him, a need to touch the other man, to assure himself that all is well. That he's actually there, in Chris' bed, breathing and moving and groaning as Chris slides a hand down the front of Joey's boxers, cupping his cock and squeezing gently.

"Oh, Jesus, oh man, Chris-"

"I love the way you feel, Joe. Warm and alive." His voice cracks at that and Joey freezes, logic and lust fighting it out in his head. Chris works the elastic over Joey's hips and slides the boxers down his thighs. He has to be careful; to not make what's already broken any worse. He can't hurt Joey, he won't. He has a plan.

"Chris, I-" Joey stops talking when Chris slide his mouth over his cock, warm and wet. Chris' hands slide down his thighs, careful of his left side where the bruise is still blooming, an angry mottled purple and black. Chris takes him in deep, his cock bumping once against the back of Chris' throat, then deeper, the sensation making him lose his breath, gasp for air.

Chris uses his tongue to trace patterns along his cock, moving deep and then shallow, bringing a hand up to help keep Joey where Chris wants him. His tongue flicks softly over the head, breath skimming over skin, cooling it. It's a masterful blowjob, one requiring the knowledge of what Joey likes, what he needs and what he didn't know he needed but is glad Chris did. It's cock worship on one level, Joey worship on a much deeper one. It's humbling but in a good way, in a way that reminds him that he is loved even when he doesn't think he deserves it.

He wants to touch Chris, to make him feel as good as Joey is feeling right now but Chris gently shrugs off his hands and maneuvers just so, making it difficult for Joey to do much more than lay there and receive what Chris is giving. Which is perhaps the entire point.

He can feel orgasm coming the same way he always knows that it's going to rain. A slight tingle at first, then a much more insistent feeling, swirling around him until he just knows and then there it is.

"Chris, man, holy shit…." He stretches out with his fingers and gets a hold of Chris' shoulder and squeezes, trying to let him know that he's about to come. Chris doesn't move, just takes him in deeper, working him more insistently and Joey stops trying, decides to just enjoy the ride.

He tenses, strung tight as he comes, the rush like what he imagines a person would feel like laying under a train as it rushes along over top of them. It's intense, more so than usual, the pain spiking through his ribs an added twist to the whole thing. Joey sees red behind his eyes, fingers clenching the sheets, knuckles white. He hears himself groaning but it's as though he's away from himself and through it all, he can still feel Chris working away on his cock.

Chris takes it all, swallowing everything, licking away anything that's left. He can't lose any more than he already has today, no matter how little sense that makes in this context. Joey's breathing hard, they're both sweaty and Chris is just getting started. He has plans, plans for showing Joey just what he feels, just what Joey means to him, to remind himself, to imprint Joey on his every fiber of being so that he never, ever forgets. Because if he ever lost him, if a day like today ever comes again and it's the wrong second, the wrong moment… in the second that he thought his world had ended, he had forgot what his world had been made of. It's time to re-map, to re-survey the terrain and remind him of just what he's got.

And not a second too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Joey Deserves Dick Too challenge.


End file.
